


In The Heat Of The Morning

by Watabi12



Category: Ezra Miller - Fandom
Genre: Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Morning Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 03:37:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10152731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watabi12/pseuds/Watabi12
Summary: I just want a lazy morning but Ezra has other plans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request I got yesterday on Tumblr. I don't usually write in second person or present tense so sorry. Also I haven't written smut for a few months. I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible. I hope you like it regardless.
> 
> P.s I hate formatting so sorry if it's weird.

The morning light shines through the curtains, waking me up. My eyes sting as I try to wrench them open.  
‘Morning, darling,’ Ezra whispers. ‘Sleep well?’ He utters it with the same ironic cheekiness that clouds all his words. He knows I’m literally my worst self in the mornings. I grunt at him and turn to face away from him. He laughs at how reproachful I am when I have just woken up. I know he’s scrolling through his phone without even opening my eyes.  
‘Go back to sleep,’ I mutter.  
‘No. Do you know what time it is?’  
‘Too early to be awake time.’  
‘It’s 11 O’clock,’ he says.  
I groan as I turn back in his direction and reluctantly open my eyes. He’s there – pale skin, dark eyes and long, fluffy hair. ‘How long have you been awake?’ I croak.  
‘A few hours.’  
‘Sorry.’ I manage to hoist myself up to greet him properly.  
‘It’s okay,’ he smiles. His lips peck at my temple.  
I look around. It still feels strange not waking up in my own room. Ezra’s flat is so different; everything is bright – white walls fixed with paintings, coloured carpets and glass cabinets. The noise from the street outside bleeds into the current silence. Ezra is still strolling through his phone. I grumpily pull the covers from myself, before remembering that I hadn’t actually dressed properly in pyjamas – I was wearing a t-shirt and my underwear.  
I have never liked my legs and his apartment was cold; the hairs on my arms raised as I stalked out of his room and down the corridor into the bathroom. It takes me a while to properly process everything that’s happening. I splash my face with water and use the toilet before heading downstairs into the kitchen. Ezra is already there, waiting for me. The kettle is on – he has beaten me to it. The mug that he has bought me, with David Bowie cat on it, is there on the counter waiting to be filled.  
‘You okay?’ Ezra questions, his eyebrows furrow as his eyes stare directly at me.  
‘I’m fine. Are you?’ I reply, trying not to look away from my boyfriend’s guise.  
‘No.’ He’s looking at the storage jars along the counter instead of me.  
I look up, taken by surprise. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ I reach out to take his hand in mine.  
‘My partner likes to sleep more than they like to fuck me,’ Ezra grins. I roll my eyes and he smiles.  
‘You are so extra!’ I tut. 

He lifts the kettle off the base and pours the hot water into the mug, before dancing over to the fringe to get the milk. ‘So you want to?’ Ezra continues. He takes the teabag out of the mug and places the milk carton back before I answer him.  
‘Of course. What did you have in mind?’  
Ezra shrugs. ‘I was thinking about how hot you look with your eyes closed.’  
‘Shut up,’ I tease.  
‘Okay,’ Ezra says. He lunges forward, connecting our lips together – his fingers wrapping the strands of my hair around his fingertips. His teeth nip at my lower lip and I study him – his expression, his breathing pattern; his acute intent. ‘Want to have sex on the counter?’ he asks, his tone is light but the words hit me.  
‘In the kitchen?’ I ask sceptically.  
‘Sure, why not?’  
‘Well, I’m not cleaning it if you come everywhere,’ I laugh.  
‘Shame. You look good with your mouth full.’  
I scoff at him but I jump up onto the counter. Ezra walks towards me fitting between my legs. He kisses me again, his hands taking my jaw in their grip. I wrap my legs around his waist and carries me, kissing my neck to the kitchen table. He puts me down on it. He slides his t-shirt off seamlessly before jumping up onto the table and straddling me. He stares down at me. I swallow. I can hear his breathing, clocks ticking from different rooms in the apartment and there’s still traffic outside. The wind quietly knocks at the window. I remain still as he looks at me. 

‘What?’ I murmur.  
‘Nothing. I just think you’re so beautiful that it’s hard to believe you’re mine.’  
‘I could say the same,’ I smile. ‘You’re the big movie star.’  
‘That’s all irrelevant.’  
‘I’d say that, to a lot of people, it matters very much.’  
Ezra’s fingertips come down to brush the skin underneath the hem of my t-shirt. ‘Close your eyes,’ he tells me. ‘Is it okay if I’m a little rough? Or are you still feeling slightly tired?’  
‘Rough is good but you’re cooking breakfast,’ I joke.  
‘Why? Are you hungry?’ He asks me. His tone shifts from light to dark; his eyes full of desire and command as he towers over my body. ‘Because I’m starving.’ I don’t know what to say after that because food innuendo isn’t really for me. ‘Close your eyes,’ he repeats but this time he means it.  
‘I’m going to take your t-shirt off, okay? Hopefully you won’t get too cold,’ he whispers.  
I don’t know exactly what makes me want to but I shut my eyes and settle into the hard surface beneath me. We’ve done this kind of thing before but this feels new. ‘Do you like this shirt?’  
‘Not especially.’  
I feel him leave me; my pale legs are attacked by the cold air of the downstairs and I wonder where he’s gone. I hear him open a drawer to the left of me and I flinch when he shuts it. ‘Still have your eyes shut?’  
‘Yeah,’ I call out, even though he’s close.  
‘Good,’ Ezra replies. He’s beside me now. I feel him return, his buttocks pressing against my thighs like a blanket. I gasp when something inexplicably cold touches the skin of my stomach. I can hear the snipping sounds of scissors cutting through fabric. ‘So extra,’ I think as he cuts down the middle of my t-shirt. I hear him throw the scissors on the ground. His fingers touch my neck, his thumb pressing into to the right side as all his fingers occupy the skin on the opposite. ‘Want this?’  
‘Yes.’ He squeezes – I feel him bend down to slide his tongue up my ribs. ‘Ez,’ I shudder. 

‘Stay still,’ he murmurs softly. He pulls down my boxers and I gasp as they peel away from my ankles. I feel him shift again. I assume that he’s doing the same – unveiling his body; the temptation to peek is overwhelming and I struggle against it.  
‘Mouth or hole?’ he questions tenderly.  
‘Hole,’ I answer instinctively and instantly regret my decision.  
‘Your funeral,’ Ezra laughs. His arm presses against my neck, pushing my head back. I hear a rip of foil.  
‘You have a condom?’ I enquire.  
‘I’m always prepared,’ Ezra giggles. I smile at his laughter. Suddenly, without warning – I feel his finger enter my body and I try to repress a groan. His fingertip is wet and I wonder what from momentarily before he pushes deeper.  
‘Ez,’ I breathe. A second finger is inserted as well – my hands reach out to hold onto the edge of the table.  
‘Yeah, baby,’ Ezra replies. ‘You like that?’  
‘Yes,’ I hiss. Another slips in. My body holds up a resistance at three fingers and he slows his pace, fingering me lightly. In and out. In and out. In. And. Out. My muscles flex with the tension he holds over me and my fingers feel as though they will break the table, if it doesn’t break them.  
‘Give me one second,’ Ezra sighs suddenly. ‘Don’t open your eyes.’ This time, all I hear is footsteps. My hole aches from where Ezra stretched it. My muscles cry out in torment as I keep fully tense, unable to release.  
‘I had to grab something,’ Ezra coughed. His skin merges with mine again and I’m powerless to hold back a smirk. His arm reaffirms dominance of my neck and I swallow as my head is forced into the hard surface below me.  
‘You ready?’  
‘Yes.’ My entire body shakes with anticipation. ‘Please. I want you to take me.’ 

His arm moves away from my neck. I hear a cap flip up, I think. The next thing I feel is a cold, sticky substance being rubbed against my hole. ‘Ezra,’ I gasp. I dig the soles of my feet into the table in an attempt to regain my composure. The contact is gone as quickly as it came; a squelching sound being left in its place.  
His arm returns, harder than before. His bone heaves against my throat and I can do nothing but groan.  
‘Want me inside you?’  
I let out another, louder groan.  
Ezra thrusts into me without mercy, his hips jostle against mine; his arm banging into my throat every time he pushes into me. ‘Ezra,’ I call out, unable and unwilling to prevent myself. I hear him groan in unison above.  
‘Oh yeah,’ he yells. ‘Take it. Fuck!’  
Ezra thrusts in me hard and fast causing my whole body to vibrate with the sheer force of his motions. I moan as he swings in out of me like a pendulum.  
‘Oh. Oh, Ezra,’ I sigh. He groans in agreement – his arm still clamped to my throat. I have to press the balls of my feet into the unforgiving surface beneath me. My body grasps up, willing him not to stop.  
‘I’m going to…’ I trail off as my exhilaration reaches its natural end.  
‘Me too,’ Ezra grunts loudly this time and subsequently falls down on me, his arm falls away to rest softly on my collarbone; his head drops to my stomach. My hands find their way to fiddle with his long hair. 

He kisses me chastely on my naval. ‘You can open your eyes now, if you want,’ Ezra says breathlessly. When I blink down at him, his long hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed. He sits up and swings down, his bare feet touching the floor. I start to get up but Ezra interrupts me.  
‘No!’ he interjects. ‘You stay there. I’m going to cook you breakfast. What do you want? Anything at all?’  
I give up, my tired muscles grateful for the recovery time. ‘Pancakes?’ I rest my head against the table, despite its lack of comfort.  
‘Absolutely.’ Ezra turns to face me; his dark feature flicking with the kind of light usually reserved for falling asleep in each other’s arms or walking down the sidewalk together.  
‘You’re amazing, you know,’ he sighed. ‘Sorry if your tea is cold now.’ He twirls around to grab it and place it beside me. He halts, his eyes fixated on my face.  
‘Breakfast!’ I demand. He chuckles throatily, grabbing a frying pan from one of the cupboards. I consider going back to sleep as he cooks but decide against because my life is so much better than any dream. He’s my dream and I want to be awake for every second of it.


End file.
